


agape

by bukkunkun



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: All of it is fluff, Canon Compliant, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Introspection, Self-Indulgent, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, hello yoi fandom i come offering fluff, i just saw fanart of yuri in yuuri's gakuran and i ran with it, idfk just tak ethis, im sorry it's a mes, it's all very self indulgent tbh, mildly hinted victyuuri, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 23:36:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8347213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun
Summary: Agape, he breathed in and out, and he shut his eyes. To him, agape was his grandfather.Agape, agape. Agape, love without condition.Yuri couldn’t sleep that night.Yuri struggles to learn what agape means not only to himself, but others.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in ~30 minutes because i saw a Thing(TM) that really bummed me out about other people policing my shit on the internet so that other fandom doesn't get a scheduled update tonight because fuq u @ person who said a Thing(TM) thanks for making my mood all shitty haha :^)
> 
> anyway so this is stupidly self indulgent, , ,, i wanted happyish yurio,, ,, , ,let me have this,

Mari gave him free reign over the new room they had given him. It used to be an old storage room, smelled like old books and the warmth of the hearth, and it was tiny. It was moderately decrepit, and though Yuri had been scowling the whole time the Katsuki family was with him in there, the moment the door shut behind him, he admitted to himself he rather liked it.

He curled up in the bed, small and practically just a small mattress on the ground, but it was softer and warmer than anything he had laid on.

A _futon_ , he heard them call it. Maybe when he and Victor went back to Russia, they would let him get one for himself to bring home.

Grandpa would sure love it, his mind whispered, and Yuri was wide awake, once again.

He looked down at his phone, WhatsApp muted since he had arrived, and he checked his Instagram account again, like a nervous tic he could never get rid of. The faces of his fellow skaters scrolled by on his timeline, picture after picture already familiar and nothing he hadn’t seen before. He had looked through the timeline just ten minutes ago; it wasn’t like there was anything much going on.

He watched another cat video shared on the feed, smiling slightly, but the rolling, tubby Siamese couldn’t calm him back down to sleep.

Agape, he thought to himself, as he thought back to his own cat back at home. How was she doing, he wondered. He wondered if his rink mates fed her on time. He wondered if his Grandpa would have her on his lap, sharing in her warmth like he did.

Agape, he breathed in and out, and he shut his eyes. To him, agape was his grandfather.

Agape, agape. Agape, love without condition.

Yuri couldn’t sleep that night.

* * *

He really couldn’t be too surprised that with a single look at him that morning Victor had decided to teach Yuuri first. He looked a mess, honestly, and Yuri couldn’t find the energy in him to get mad about it. He slumped his way back to Yu-topia, Makkachin at his heels amicably barking to keep him company, and when he reached the door, the poodle licked his hand.

Yuri managed a tiny smile at it, and bid goodbye to it with a pat on its head. Makkachin seemed to beam at him, and hurried back away towards Hasetsu Ice Castle. The blond watched it leave, sighing deeply, and when the dog was out of his sight, he turned away from the front door to walk through the yard.

There he saw Hiroko, Yuuri’s mother, hanging up clothes to dry. The snow had already receded somewhat and the pink trees were blooming, and the wind was nice today. Yuri cocked his head when he realised the one of the clothes was already dry. It was an old-looking black jacket, with a high collar and shiny buttons, and he had to admit it looked pretty good. Perhaps she was just letting it air out?

His legs carried him there before his mind could, the question tumbling out of his lips before he could stop it.

“What’s that?”

His tone held none of the venom he had in it for Yuuri. He wasn’t sure why, really, but the dark-haired woman turned to smile at him.

“Oh, Yurio-kun.” She nodded, “This was Yuuri’s gakuran.”

“Gakuran?” He echoed, the word unfamiliar and tumbling awkwardly from his already awkward Japanese.

“Gakuran.” Hiroko confirmed, “It was his old high school uniform.”

Yuri thumbed the material, and it felt soft and comfortable. “Why are you still washing this?”

“Well,” She laughed kindly, “It made me feel as if Yuuri was home, back when he was still training in Detroit. By now it’s just a force of habit.”

Yuri inspected the gakuran, frowning slightly.

 _It made me feel as if Yuri was home,_ she had said. It sounded like the same excuse he made when he hugged his cat close to himself on nights when he felt particularly lonely, and his grandfather wasn’t around.

“Yurio-kun,” Hiroko said, “Would you like to try it on?”

Yuri blinked at her, but he nodded. She took it down from the clothesline, albeit with a little difficulty, so he awkwardly helped her unclasp the clothespin from the shoulders to let it drop into her arms.

“Here you go,” She smiled at him, and she held the gakuran up at him. He shucked his training jacket off, Hiroko taking it from him with a smile as he slipped the gakuran on. It was a little big on him, the sleeves felt loose, but the length was alright. He smiled slightly at the warmth it offered, and Hiroko beamed. “Oh, it’s a little big on you, but it looks lovely.” She nodded. Yuri’s smile widened slightly into a shy smile, and she patted his cheek. “You look wonderful in it Yurio-kun, but, oh, you’re so small, I should let you have something to fill out that gakuran a bit better.”

“H-huh, wait, I—” Yuri flushed, but Hiroko took his hand and led him inside the house through the side door she came through. Yuri stumbled, trying to get his shoes off before they stepped inside, but Hiroko tutted.

“It’s alright, Yurio-kun. You can keep your shoes on.” She said, and Yuri nodded dazedly as she led him into the kitchen. “Here, dear. Have a curry bun, fresh from the oven!”

She picked up a beautiful golden brown bun from a basket near the window out into the onsen restaurant, still steaming, and she handed it to him. Yuri took the bun sheepishly, and looked around nervously.

“I, um,” he began, but she shook her head. He blushed deeper, and looked to the side. “T-thank you.” He coughed delicately. “ _I-itadakimasu_.” He had managed to learn a bit more Japanese than he knew back in Russia, mostly thanks to Victor, but his effort had made Hiroko giggle softly.

“Eat up.” She told him, patting his cheek. “I’ll go look for something else.”

Yuri watched her busy around in the kitchen, settling down on the table as he began to nibble at the bun she gave him. He sighed contentedly. It was delicious.

Agape, he thought, to Hiroko, was food. It was her way of showing how much she loved her family, and she put down another bowl of katsu-topped rice in front of him.

“Oh, wait, Vicchan must have you on a strict diet,” she looked disappointed, and Yuri couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face.

“No, it’s okay.” He said, “Just for a day, I’d like to eat what you’ll give me.”

Hiroko looked positively _delighted_ , and she hurried off to prepare him another dish. Yuri thought back to his grandfather, of the dinners they shared together, and of the nights Yuri stayed up too late in hopes of catching his mother actually at home.

He would always fall asleep on his grandfather’s lap, a half-eaten homemade pirozhki in his hand, lulled to sleep by the rhythm of his grandfather’s breathing, and the familiar scent of warm comfort food.

Agape, he thought. Agape was a nice feeling.

* * *

“Mom, I just forgot something…” Yuuri peered into the kitchen, Victor at his heels, only to have the two of them stop at the sight of Yuri seated at the counter, legs swinging as he munched on an apple bunny, chuckling softly as Hiroko told him about something that happened years ago. His words died on his lips when he realised Yuri had been wearing his old gakuran, and a smile crossed his face.

“Oh, look at Yurio,” Victor cooed, his phone already out and ready to snap, but Yuuri shook his head. “Aw, Yuuri?”

“Leave him alone for now, Victor.” He chuckled softly, ushering Victor back outside once more.

“Why?” Victor whined, and Yuuri had to laugh at the man’s actions sometimes, shaking his head fondly as he slid the door shut behind them.

“He’s discovering his agape.” He said softly, and Victor calmed down, chuckling fondly.

“So he is.” He agreed, and the two of them walked on.

* * *

Much later that evening, tired out from Victor’s relentless training and jelly-boned from the onsen soak and generally yelling at Yuuri, Yuri lay down on the futon, wide awake once more.

Yuuri had been oddly more… accommodating to his outbursts that evening. He could even dare to say he had been affectionate, and Victor… was his usual self, albeit a little more _clingy_ than usual. Something was up.

Still, Yuri didn’t mind so much, looking back up at the gakuran, now hanging on the wall from an old wooden hanger, and he smiled slightly. Straining slightly, he got up to slip it back on, on top of his sleeping clothes before curling up in the soft warmth of the futon.

Agape was warmth, safety, and family. Good food, good conversation.

It was a nice, pure feeling, and he wasn’t sure if he could ever fully understand it enough in time for the Onsen on Ice competition, but today felt nice. He wouldn’t mind having it again, given the chance, but this time, perhaps, with his grandfather, and the Japanese sakura blooming outside, and the coming warmth of spring and summer.

He fell asleep like that, smiling softly.

* * *

He woke up to the buzz of his phone, and he blinked blearily, to find a flood of Instagram private messages from his rink mates back in Russia. He cocked his head, unlocking his phone and wincing at the sudden bright light of it in the darkness of his room, and he opened up Instagram to see what was going on.

He refreshed his feed, and the first picture that popped up was from Victor’s Instagram.

His eyes widened, and he flushed deeply.

It was a picture of him at his most vulnerable, smiling softly in a warm dream and curled up in warm, homey futon and sheets, Yuuri’s gakuran wrapped around him like a safety blanket.

> **v-nikiforov** yurio in yuri’s gakuran! #russianfairy #cutekitten

The caption really sold it, really. Now the whole world knew Yuri slept in Yuuri’s old clothes.

His hands shook, and really, he should have expected no less from that damn drama queen, Victor Nikiforov.

“Victor!” He screamed, and he _knew_ the walls were thin, but he was a teenager, damn it, and he _will_ throw a tantrum if he wanted. There were lights flicking on at the sound of his scream, as Yuuri rushed into his room, dishevelled and worried.

“Yurio?” He gasped, still disoriented with sleep to notice Yuri was still wearing his old gakuran, and Yuri threw a pillow at him.

“Go get that damn Victor, fatso!” He stuttered, blushing deeply. “I’m going to beat his ass in!”

Agape, he thought, as Yuuri hurried away from his room, still confused and holding onto Yuri’s pillow, was love at its purest form.

By just a little, maybe, he understood.

But he was _still_ not going to let Victor get away with this.


End file.
